


Sulfur

by TheObsessedAuthor



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:41:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheObsessedAuthor/pseuds/TheObsessedAuthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After traces of sulfur are discovered on a victim's shoes, Sherlock is at a loss as to who could've killed him. John, however, knows exactly who the culprit is, even if  Sherlock refuses to believe it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sulfur

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for this work came from the lovely daftwithoneshoe (on Tumblr) and this gifset: http://daftwithoneshoe.tumblr.com/post/32567390116
> 
> If this gets positive feedback I might continue this as a series, so if you like it, tell me!

**"SULFUR!"**

 

John Watson almost fell out of the lab chair he'd been dozing off in. He and Sherlock had been in the laboratory for hours- even the ever-faithful Molly had gone home by now. He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of one hand. "Excuse me?"

 

" _Sulfur_ , John, aren't you paying attention? I've found traces of sulfur on the victim's shoes. This completely destroys all my previous theories on this case!"

 

John folded his arms across his chest, wrinkling his jacket, and walked over to peer at Sherlock's microscope. He had no idea how Sherlock could tell it was sulfur just from looking at it- but John, he had know what it was from the moment he smelled it. Sherlock wouldn't have been able to, of course. "Well, there is one possible explanation-"

 

"John, I am not going over this with you again." Sherlock swiveled in the chair, facing John with an expression akin to disdain. John hated that face. "Demons aren't real."

 

He'd put up with a lot since coming to live with Sherlock Holmes. Suffering his know-it-all attitude, pretending to be impressed by his repulsively slow skills of deduction. Granted, they were quicker than most human's, but still. It was ridiculous.

 

And now he was rebuffing the obvious truth, because of his own pride and stupidity.

 

  
_I'm going to regret this later_ , John thought.  _But somebody's got to prove this bastard wrong for once, or the killer will be on the run forever._  


He let the glamour over his eyes drain away, grimly enjoying Sherlock's slight intake of breath and the way his expression changed from exaggerated patience to horror and- finally-  terror. The blackness engulfed his irises, and he tilted his head at the frozen sociopath, a miniscule sneer flickering across his face. Then he blinked, and turned away, straightening his creased jacket. "Believe in us now?"

 

He could hear his elevated heartbeat. It was hilarious, the reaction he got from one tiny glimpse of what John was. _Imagine, if he knew the things I'd done._ _Moriarty's crimes are laughable compared to my history._  


 

Sherlock's heart hammered in his chest as he reevaluated everything he'd ever done with John, everything he'd seen him do, factoring in his new status as a monster. It explained a few things, but for the most part John had played the part of a human astoundingly well. 

 

"...So," he managed, turning back to his microscope. "Demons are real. Do you... do you know this one?"

 

Sherlock noted John's back stiffen minutely, and felt a bit of relief that he hadn't been wrong about  _everything_. 

 

The relief evaporated again when John smiled. His eyes, once again their unassuming shade of bluish grey, were unsettling nonetheless. He tapped his hands on the countertop- itching for a trigger, Sherlock realized- and chuckled. "Actually, yeah, I've seen his work before. Sick son of a bitch. Azazel, he's called."


End file.
